


Twenty-first Christmas

by tatooedlaura



Series: Christmas [22]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Maggie invited herself to Christmas dinner at his house by email, a very un-Maggie like thing to do but necessary in her mind.





	Twenty-first Christmas

Maggie invited herself to Christmas dinner at his house by email, a very un-Maggie like thing to do but necessary in her mind.

“Dear Fox,

I was going to ask this on Tuesday when you were here but I realized that if I mentioned it in person, you would attempt to find a way to decline and that will not work. Instead, I am letting you know that I’ll be there on December 20th at 4pm for appetizers, for dinner at 6pm and I will be leaving no later than 9pm to allow you to get your proper night’s sleep.

I will be bringing with me one blueberry pie and one pumpkin pie.

Whatever you choose to serve for dinner will be wonderful and I will enjoy it immensely.

I look forward to it and will not be checking my email so any possibility of you cancelling will not be seen and I will be on your doorstep regardless of weather and circumstance.

Love,

Maggie”

&&&&&&&&&&

Somewhere around the previous February, he worked up the courage to write Maggie a short note, much like the ones he and Scully had been infrequently exchanging. She responded immediately and had not left him alone since. It had taken until April for her to convince him to come to her house on a Tuesday afternoon to help clean out her gutters. He’d made it there by cab, ontime, and the whole experience had been terribly awkward and clock-ticking dreadful.

He returned the next week to fix some siding issues she was having on the garage.

Then to mow her lawn.

Weed her garden.

Re-stain and re-seal the deck.

By June, he just came over, no work beckoning him but working once he got there none-the-less. She fed him, they talked, they cried on multiple occasions, he apologized every time before he left again that night.

He didn’t ask about Scully though.

Maggie had questioned him as to why he didn’t but with a simple shake of his head, “not yet. I know she’s okay though so that makes it easier.”

Once or twice, he’d come earlier or stayed later than he’d meant to or Scully had dropped by on the wrong day, forgetting, in the hustle and bustle of hospital life, which day was verboten. The first time for that had been painfully wretched, Mulder dropping everything and bolting from the house, apologizing later to Maggie from the comfort of his living room.

The second time had been easier, Scully apologizing for interrupting and nodding towards Mulder, eyes open and accepting that she still shared her mother with him even though she didn’t share his bed. She’d disappeared to the backyard and as he left a few minutes later, he called a quiet ‘good night’ through the screened door, hearing her call one back without missing a beat.

&&&&&&&&&&

As the holidays approached and there ceased to be a lawn to mow or windows to wash, he began to worry that he wouldn’t have a reason to go see her, to interact with her, to learn, through osmosis and rusty spying techniques, that Scully had an apartment, a job, a decent car, a life that didn’t involve him.

He desperately wanted to curl up and die a little bit when he began to hear Christmas carols on the radio but then Flab jumped on his belly, walked smartly up his chest with tail raised and waving, licked his chin, whisker-tickled his cheeks, then meowed fishy breath in his face, demanding scratching on her head and undercarriage.

He had no choice but to smile and do her bidding.

He snuggled up with her later on but didn’t die, instead listened to her purr against his throat while he watched ‘Plan 9 from Outer Space’ and forgot to lock the front door.

&&&&&&&&&&

“Mom, you didn’t even let him try to cancel? What if he’s not there when you show up?”

“He’ll be there. He wouldn’t dare not be there and he will have dinner ready and we will have a very pleasant holiday meal.” Giving her daughter a not-so-sneaky look, “you could always come with me. I think Fox would like that very much.”

Scully shook her head, leaning back against the kitchen chair, feet settled on the seat beside her, elbow resting on the table, head against her hand, “I can’t. I just … I’m okay with him being here but I’m not ready to go back yet.”

Maggie loved them more than her own life and wished they’d just get themselves organized, “he’s been doing so well with his medications and trying, Dana. He talks now and carries on a conversation that has nothing to do with aliens and invasions and basement bomb shelters. He’s like he used to be and he misses you so much. If you’d just try again …”

Scully cut her off, eyes closing, “Mom, I will do this at my speed, okay? I can’t just show up at the house for Christmas dinner and pretend life is fine.”

“I know, honey, I’m sorry to push.” Resting her hand on Scully’s arm, squeezing lightly, “but you’re sure you’re fine with me going?”

Eyes popping back open, they both ignored the shining tears suddenly pooling, “at least he’s letting someone in and better you than some crazy person he met online.”

Lightening the mood, Maggie smiled, “it’s nice to at least rank about the internet chat people.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie knocked on his door at precisely 4pm, pies in hand and scarf tied tight, the harsh wind blowing through her coat and sweater as if they weren’t there, small, sharp pieces of ice pummeling her hair and stinging her cheeks. Mulder answered with the same nervous look he had on his face when he showed up for his first Christmas all those years ago and she couldn’t help but smile, “relax, Fox, it’s just me and pie.”

Mulder smiled back, “am I wearing my panic look?”

“You are indeed.”

Appetizers consisted of fresh fruit and cheese, alternating olives and cubes of ham skewered to death on a red-foil topped toothpick, along with sparkling apple cider or water. Feeling the need to apologize for the drinks, “I’m not allowed any alcohol with my medication and I don’t need the temptation.”

Taking a long sip of her cider, “this is just fine. I don’t need the alcohol if I’m to drive home without getting pulled over.”

Dinner, with a little of Maggie’s help, was steak, baked potatoes, asparagus and salad. Nodding her approval as she took her first bite, “better than my husband ever made.”

“Mr. Scully couldn’t cook a steak?”

“Not unless you liked shoe leather. There’s a reason we all love burned bacon. At first, it was a necessity because that’s how he cooked it but it grew on us. The well-done steak, however, never quite caught on.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it.”

Conversation flowed smoothly, Mulder asking about the family, all the kids floating around; Maggie asking about his medications and his routine, keeping him honest without letting on that she was keeping him honest but given he knew she was keeping him honest, he answered honestly, never wanting her to worry about him again.

Talk turned to Scully completely on accident, just as Maggie was serving out gigantic pieces of pie, “you know, I never could get that daughter of yours to eat pie.”

Even before he finished the sentence, he felt his stomach clench tightly, the steak threatening to push back up his throat as his eyes darted anywhere but to his dinner guest. Maggie, heart aching once again for the pair of them, nodded lightly, her voice carrying a joviality to it that relaxed him somewhat, “neither could any of us, no matter how many we squished her face into and believe you me, there were a lot.”

Mulder lit up, suddenly needing to hear a story of Scully’s face buried in a banana cream pie as much as he needed air to breathe, “define a lot.”

The next hour, loose lips told stories that would make Scully blush, had she been there; stories of pies and bathing suit incidents and spelling bee SNAFUs and embarrassing questions and equally embarrassing answers.

Mulder had never, not in years, laughed like he did that night. He relished each incident as if it were precious crystal and gold, woven into an intricate remembrance of a Scully he’d never met, never heard about and never wanted to forget. He even repeated a few things, just to make sure he had them committed to memory correctly, realizing that even if she never came home again, he’d have these treasures forever.

Watching how delighted he was with her reminiscence, Maggie shared more and more, one story blended with the next until she looked up, realizing it was after 10, the wind howling, the snow pinging the glass as it drove horizontal against the house. Standing, she moved to the window, “I don’t think I can drive home in this, Fox. Would you mind terrible if I stayed on the couch?”

He felt awful that he’d kept her for so long, wondering if he’d done it on purpose for the company then berating himself because he’d done nothing but listen, Maggie leading the charge down memory lane without so much as a care about the weather outside. Nodding in her direction after a moment, “in face, you can have the spare bed upstairs or our bed, if you don’t like the mattress. Plenty of blankets and quilts to keep you warm, too, no matter how drafty it gets up there.”

Her heart sang momentarily, knowing that an offered room upstairs meant he was cleaning even where no one would see. Blankets and quilts meant he was doing laundry. All little things that added up to telling her her son was doing okay.

“I would love that, Fox, thank you.”

He looked around the kitchen, which they’d cleaned up earlier, “well, are you ready for bed now? It’ll probably take a few minutes for the room to warm up after I open the door so would you like another piece of pie, maybe or watch the news?”

Maggie drew back in surprise, “when did you get regular television again?”

Mulder went sheepish, ducking his head, “well, more like I have a satellite dish that I can aim through the attic window so no one can hijack the dish or signal and mess with me.” Running a hand messily through his hair, he squinted apologetically at her, “old, old, old habits die hard but I realized it was a good next step for me.”

Hugging him tightly in a surprise attack, he still marveled at how tiny both her and her daughter were given that their mere presence burst the seams of whatever room they were in, “it’s a very good step and yes, I would like to watch the news with you, then maybe an episode of something nice, ‘Golden Girls’ or whatever might be on one of those old lady stations.”

&&&&&&&&

Soon, Maggie was wearing some of Scully’s old sweatpants and a t-shirt, settled comfortable under mounds of covers when she heard Mulder knock on the open door frame, “Fox? Is everything all right?”

Mulder regarded her seriously, “earlier, I referred to my bed as our bed, meaning mine and Scully’s. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression or idea that we were talking and she’d be back soon.”

Giving him the smallest head tilt, pulling her lips in slightly, pressing them together in sympathetic understanding, “I know, Fox. I don’t expect anything from either of you. I will always have hope and I will always pray that you two work things out eventually, be it end in love, friendship or understanding but above all else, I just want you to be happy. It’s what every mother wants for her children, both the ones related by blood and the ones she adopts as her own along the way.”

His eyes swam for a moment, then, “I go to therapy now. I mean, I actually go. I was doing things over the phone but finally, I realized that I needed to do it in person. I started a few weeks ago and I wanted to see how it went before I told you.”

Her chest swelled in pride, “I’m so proud of you, Fox. Dana will be to, whenever and if you ever choose to tell her.”

“I will. Just, in my own time … that is if you don’t mind keeping a secret from your daughter for me.”

With a juvenile turn of the fake lock on her lips, she tossed the key over her shoulder, “I will be silent until I hear from you.”

Flashing another Mulder smile at her, the one she’d missed so very much, he then scooped up the lurking Flab and dropped her on Maggie’s lap, “g’night, Maggie.”

“G’night, Fox.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

The next day, after Mulder had cleaned off Maggie’s car and had plowed the driveway with the lawnmower/snowplow, he came back in, shivering and soaked, grateful for the steaming mug of hot chocolate she met him at the door with. Taking it, he sipped, disappeared upstairs to change, then returned to the living room to find her waiting, small Christmas bag on the table, happy smile radiant. Once he sat down beside her on the couch, she handed him the bag, “Merry Christmas.”

“Aww, Maggie, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“No, I didn’t but I wanted to so I did and you can’t return it because it’s homemade and personalized just for you.”

Curiosity drove him to pull out tissue paper while smirking at her threat, “please tell me it’s fudge.”

“No, you’ll get that next time so stop bothering me about it.”

He would have responded with something but his tongue tied itself in a knot, the ornament he pulled from the bag stopping him in his tracks. It was a cross-stitched sphere, a myriad of blues in the background except for where ‘Fox’ and 6/6/1992 were sewn in, one on either side of the gift. It only took a moment for him to remember the date and looking at her in quizzical wonder, “why would you put this date on here?”

“Because that’s the first day I heard about you. She called me up that night and told me about the man she’d been partnered with, someone with the odd name of Fox Mulder. Had I known then what I know now, I would have told her to kiss you the first opportunity she had.”

Knowing Maggie well, he studied it first, then focused past it to her face, “did you make one for Scully, too?”

“It’s time I should be going, I think.” Standing, she left his question hanging in the air, the answer obvious but enjoying her mysterious ways just the same, “thank you for a very lovely Christmas dinner and for letting me stay the night. I truly appreciate it.”

“You are welcome anytime, Maggie, anytime.”

“And I’ll see you on the Tuesday between Christmas and New Year’s, correct? I need to give you your gift.”

“The ornament was gift enough.”

“Hush, now. I have something else for you and expect you at my house by 2pm that day.” Sliding arms in sleeves, gloves on hands, she picked up her keys, “now give me a hug.”

Doing as ordered, she held a little tighter and a little longer, whispering into his ear, “you are a good boy and a wonderful son and I love you very much.”

“I love you, too, Maggie. Drive safe and email me when you get home.”

“I will.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully opened her ornament in silence Christmas Eve, mirroring her mother’s head tilt and curving smile, “I have a feeling Mulder had the same one, doesn’t he? Just, I assume with his name on it and hopefully not in red?”

“Blue and you take all the fun out of gift giving sometimes.”

Not about to let her mother see her cry yet again, she instead pulled Maggie close, tears hitting out-of-sight shoulder instead, “it’s perfect. Thank you.”


End file.
